In graduate school, in my lab there was a grad student who was kind of an unlikely "professor's pet". He was tall and had surfer's long hair with a bit of a hippie aesthetic. Anyways, he was also really completely clueless about how to do science correctly, but also, I guess, really good about playing politics (there was a time when he asked me to put some bacterial plasmid DNA on my mammalian cells. I told him "it doesn't work that way", but I did it anyways and handed over the cells, and he got the observation he was expecting). On his main project he was teamed up with a super sketchy foreign postdoc that I was convinced would say anything to get high profile papers out.

So they did a series of experiments and reported results that screamed "artefact". On one of them, for example, the postdoc got trained to use the electron microscope and they went through thousands and thousands of images to pick out the one that had "just the right morphology" (I am pretty sure they were snapping photos of salt crystals). On another, they reported that their research subject protein was so fast at the process we were studying that everything occurred IN MIXING TIME. That to me, screams "you are not doing your experiments carefully".

Meanwhile I was sweating balls working on a very careful preparation of similarly finicky proteins (you agitate them and they do bad things since they're metastable) and finally got it to produce reproducible results. I suggested they adapt my preparation to their protein but they couldn't give a damn, they had already published their paper and had moved on to sexier proteins.

But then an intern was put on the project, and she could not reproduce their results, after working on it for six months (she is careful and honest). At the end, I felt so bad for her, I offered to train her on my technique, but she passed. I think she was burned out on the project. I asked if I could get a sample of the protein that she had prepped, and she agreed.

I ran the protein through my preparatory technique and observed that there was a contamination that could have seeded the kinetics of their process. Upon isolating an uncontaminated sample, I carefully but briskly rushed the sample over to the machine. Nothing. Curious, I jacked the temperature up to get it going faster. Nothing. I left it in the machine overnight. Nothing. Finally, convinced that I had likely done something wrong, I dropped the sample in a shaker at temperature, came back the next day and recorded amazingly high signal. In short, the observation that it was "super fast" was entirely an artefact.

As I, too, was trained on the Electron Microscope, I quickly spotted my sample onto an EM disc, reserved some time and hopped on the 'scope. The first grid sector I looked at, there was literally TEXTBOOK morphology in front of my eyes.

I stapled together my results, gave it to the grad student, and told him that the general gist of his paper was probably still correct, but that he should be careful about characterizing his protein as exceptional. I then said it was in his hands to do the right thing.

What do you think he did? Nothing, of course. He kept on the talks circuit, still talking about how exceptional his discovery was, and to date there have been no retractions. He even won the NIH grad student of the year award.

The epilog is that after a decade of floundering I realized that even though I am pretty good at science, I was no good at playing academic politics and quit the pursuit; I drove for lyft/uber for a bit, and now I'm a backend dev. I am certain that my experiences are not unique. Amazingly the intern returned to our lab, and had her own three-year stint chasing ghosts that turned out to be overoptimistic interpretation of results reported by a postdoc.

Oh. What happened to the grad student? He's a professor in the genomics department at UW.